Of course, Vito went nuts. And there, smiling and waving at me through the glass french door, was an earthy-crunchy young girl, who was probably 22, but didn't look a day over 14.
She was wearing one of those knitted woolly caps with the ear flaps that they used to try and sell to you at college for $5, or in the parking lot of Grateful Dead concerts; the kind that smell like mishandled sheep when they get wet. She probably had a handbag made of hemp.
Little Mother Nature is still smiling and waving, so I put down the laundry and open up the door to the foyer.
Last year around this time, we had another Phish groupie come to our door, when Mr. KK was home. And before I knew it, my dear sweet husband, who doesn't have a mean bone in his body, had invited this granola weirdo in to use our bathroom ("because it's cold! and he has to pee!).
But I wasn't answering without ammunition. So I picked up a severely barking 15-pound killer and cracked open the front door.
VITO: "BARK. BARK. BARKITY BARK."
TREE HUGGER (screaming through the storm door, above the barking lunatic): "Hi! I'M....blah blah...ENVIRONMENT...blah blah....CLEAN AIR....yada yada...something."
KK: "Now isn't really a good time for me."
VITO: "BARK BARK I'M GONNA GNAW YOUR LEG OFF BARK BARK!"
TREE HUGGER: "But I'm only in your neighborhood tonight."
Right. Vito is scratching the shit out of my side right now with his need-to-be-trimmed claws.
KK: "As you can see...now? Is not the best time."
TREE HUGGER: "But...but..."
KK: "No thanks. No thank you. Good night."
VITO: "BARK BARK, MUTHA-EFFING BARK!"
And I shut the door on a girl who probably hadn't showered in a week.
Had Mr. KK been here, she would have been sitting at our dinner table by now.